In Place of a Lullaby
by Iona sg
Summary: Elizabeth ponders her relationships. (McKay/Weir and some Elizabeth/Simon.)


Author's note_: Hello. *taps microphone* Anyone still in this fandom? *can't see the audience for the spotlight but hopes so*  
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_After many years away from the SGA fandom and fic in general, a recent rewatch inspired me to try my hand at writing again.  
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_Unbeta'd. Though I did my best with editing, I may have missed typos, mistakes and odd passages. Tenses, in particular. Unexpectedly, this fic turned out to be a tense nightmare. I'm still not sure I got them all right; or if this jumble makes any sense at all. (If it doesn't, sorry for confusing you.) Although I'm not fond of present tense narrative, I ended up using it in parts anyway as it turned out that's the least confusing version. * sigh*_

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In Place of a Lullaby

It's late evening. Few people are still around and the beautiful view of Atlantis is now hidden by the darkness outside. Elizabeth is just finishing her workday and she's becoming tired. Play replaced work. Stacking cards is a semi-automatic behavior and she finds her mind drifting.

She thinks of all the late evenings she had with Simon whenever they were both at home. All too rarely; though they knew couples who were spending even less time together. It wasn't often that she'd work herself to sleep. Simon, even if sometimes overworked, rarely worked himself to sleep as well. Their evenings were usually nice.

Nice. Nothing less, yet nothing more. Now, where's that two? She needs a two. They were pleasant, comfortable... and a whole lot of nothing. Maybe that's what was wrong with them. Their nights were nice. She would be content, falling asleep watching his face. It was a fairy tale. Only... Diamonds... more diamonds.

She taps the desk with her stylus. The computer game and her long-gone relationship are both mocking her. She can't decide what to do – stay in the office or go to bed?

As she's searching for the elusive twos and tens, epiphany strikes. Elizabeth realizes with surprise that she and Simon were complete opposites in their relationship to what they were by themselves. She wasn't adventurous and he was. Outside of that relationship, she is an adventurous person. There was never even a tiniest adventurous streak in Simon as a person – as a doctor as well, when she thinks about it. Sure, they had met when he was on a Doctors without Borders mission; probably the only time he had done something that wasn't predictable and by the book. Just to meet her, probably. What a mirage!

In retrospect, love had happened, but not a relationship. Much as it hurt, she realized that early on on her first return trip to Atlantis and by the time they were at the edge of the Pegasus Galaxy she'd stopped mourning the relationship. Oh, she had imagined what it would be like with him on the ship – that was probably the thing that finally convinced her they were better off separated. Even the uneventful trip that couldn't offer much more than views of hyperspace (in all honesty, it mostly offered cheap novel reading) would be too much for him..

"Rodney!"

She, on the other hand, craved adventures, happenings, unpredictability. Her background didn't afford her that. She was never a rebellious daughter to her well-to-do parents. She would never do anything that was considered unruly. So, for a time, she only dreamt of becoming an astronaut. The path to becoming one was through careful study and didn't seem like adventuring at the first glance. It was safe. She wasn't sure she wouldn't still be interested in that profession. However, in the end, where sciences go, she chose something softer.

"Rodney!"

And then the same thing happened in her romantic relationships. She made the safe choice. She chose Simon. The right choice. In her community, her social stratum, her circles, she couldn't have found a better man. He was good-looking. Kind. Ambitious. Very well educated. Loved her. Responsible. Mature. Sensible. Had hobbies of a sensible mature man. Went to classical music concerts with her though he liked jazz. In return she went to avant-garde theater with him though she preferred Hollywood movies. Then they would eat out – or in – when they had the opportunity to spend time time together. Oh, that's red, not black.

"Wake up, Rodney!"

She thinks of the evenings, not unlike this one. The outside of windows are dark. Never altogether, though. The city lights always shine. Atlantis' lights always seem dimmer than Washington's, though that is probably erroneous. Elizabeth and Simon would often stay at home, too tired for the extracurricular cultural activity to talk about in the office the next morning. He would tell her about his day. His research and the findings. She was never really interested, but sometimes she'd end up queasy. So, she would latch onto the gossip. That way she could at least successfully pretend she'd paid attention. It was a subterfuge of caring. Seven, not two. That's why it doesn't work. He would never seem the wiser, but she always liked to watch him talk. She'd end up knowing all the dirty and the somewhat cleaner details from both his office and the University; more than from her own workplaces. Now, she has to care, to know the people she's leading.

"Rodney, come on." She taps his forearm.

She was never a subject of gossip. There was nothing anyone could say anything against her, save out of spite. She was the good, successful princess who got the coveted-by-all prince. A diplomat got herself a doctor. Diamonds, diamonds... Got one! She quickly moves the card. She was a talented linguist too, even if she herself often forgot the fact. But that was before she first read about strange languages (spoken on planets other than Earth!) in an official (top secret!) file. In a lavish office, a room similar to those she usually attended tea parties in.

She lived in a society where being good with languages meant being able to say a few pleasantries in ten languages. It was comfortable, but there was so much more to her talent. She had sensed that during her time as a student, but went back to simple communication skills after she'd graduated. All in service of her job as a diplomat. Her path had to cross that of the stargate to learn that she could actually find adventure in linguistics as well. There was research there. Discovery. New languages, bringing the excitement of knowing you spoke a language only a few other people did. Researching their structure, etymology, lore. Asyndetons. Roots and relations. And discussion on them with those people. It brought adventure of sorts and camaraderie. Shared excitement. A bond.

"Wake up!"

She's never bored or static anymore. Why does that card always slip from her grasp? Wretched touchpad. She'll have to have it fixed. She never listens to things she doesn't care about anymore and her discussions never make her queasy, though there are many reasons for an uneasy sensation in the pit of her stomach. Good. Ten to eight found.

"Come on!" she whispers more loudly.

Still, if sacrifices have to be made in a relationship, she guesses this one is easier to make than accepting the general feeling of being drugged that she now knows she felt with Simon. He is indeed a dream mate to many a woman. Women who aren't like her. Who don't need a life like the one she does. A sort of life that mated her with a man like Rodney. Acerbic, unromantic, inconsiderate, selfish – mostly because he forgets how not to be, cowardly – until courage is really needed, with a great sense of adventure and discovery. A dedicated scientist who cares about all sciences, even those not his own. A fellow speaker of rare languages and a man who would work until he falls asleep at her desk. She couldn't ask for more.

She taps his hand. He's still asleep.

She hesitates waking him. He's so cute when he sleeps. But she knows that if she leaves him as he is – sleeping in the chair, head on his arms on her desk - it would only hurt his back. Something he frequently complains about anyway, though it's hard to say whether the problem is real or just a product of his hypochondria. The vehemence and high pitch of his voice when discussing it suggests the latter. Adorable though that is to her, Elizabeth knows from experience that sleeping at the desk is a bad idea.

"Rodney, wake up!"

"Why?" he mumbles, not moving.

"Rodney!"

He opens his eyes, just a little, just enough that no one could blame him for not opening them, not really seeing her. Or anything else; he registers only a blur of a lit room, eyes not awake enough to see anything more that that. Elizabeth recognizes the condition – she's on the way there herself.

"Go to your quarters to sleep."

"I'm already asleep. I think."

"You'll get a crick in your neck if you stay at my desk."

"We still need to go through the report."

"We can do that in the morning."

"You're working on it."

"You mean this?" She turns her laptop around for him to see. A small window displays a report they'd been working on before he fell asleep, Elizabeth barely added a word or two. Next to it is an open game of Solitaire. By the looks of it, not close to being finished.

"Oh."

The little sound makes Elizabeth smile without conscious intervention. The lilt of his tired 'oh' always reminds her why she loves him so much. She pats his arm. "I'll be finished in a few minutes," she tells him. He nods in retrun and with a probably not very play-acted stiffness rises to his feet.

"Okay."

"See you."

"Yeah."

He leaves the room. The rest of his body asleep, his legs working just enough to get him to his quarters, he silently thanks his luck that he left Elizabeth's bedclothes where she left them on his bed the previous night. She would soon come by and he's far too tired to worry about that.

ooo

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Author's note (on asyndeton): _This strange word is a grammar term that, simply put, means a sentence that doesn't have any conjunctions – words like 'and', 'but' and 'or' – where you'd expect them. A pile-up effect of sorts. When editing, I realized I used a lot of them in this fic and thought it was an appropriate word to add to the linguistics technobabble._ :)


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